


Stumbling Towards Normal

by fonapola



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hints of Chloe/Oliver, Post Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonapola/pseuds/fonapola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shows up two months later and she slams the door in his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stumbling Towards Normal

 

**01.**

He shows up two months later and she slams the door in his face.

Or at least she _would_ have slammed the door if it wasn’t so large and heavy. Instead, she settles for glaring and telling him to leave. She doesn’t want to deal with him, at the moment. She has other things to worry about.

\---

“Chloe, come on. Open up.” Oliver pounded again on the solid door, and Chloe closed her eyes as the vibration from the blow ran through her shoulders. _Leave,_ she willed, leaning against the door. _Just leave._

A few moments later when the pounding stopped and Oliver left, Chloe slid down the door until she was sitting. She wanted to be grateful for the peace, but she just felt torn.

 

::

_It took her three weeks to move everything into the Watchtower. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have taken her more than a few days, but she’d buried_ normal circumstances _with Jimmy. Her life was so far beyond normal at that point she couldn’t even make it out in the horizon._

_Jimmy was dead, Clark was “dead,” Lois was missing, her team was gone, and she was alone._

_So, it took her three weeks to move into the Watchtower and another week to set up, but she never stopped. She kept working._

_She was alone, but she wasn’t a quitter._

 

 

**02.**

He shows up again two nights later, and she lets him stand in the doorway, because a small part of her admits that he looks sincere. He is upset and sorry, but she is past caring. She needs more than an apology. She needs _someone_. She is so tired of being alone.

_Please,_ he tries, and she hesitates then steps aside, letting him in. It is the Watchtower, after all. She’s always intended it to be for superheroes.

“You left,” she accuses before he can get too far.

He falters at her words and turns, his eyes dark with emotion. “I know.”

She swallows, remembering the pit of sadness that had done nothing but erode the last two months. “Why?” she asks.

He shakes his head, speechless, and she waits.

She’s always waiting.

And she’s always alone.

“I’m sorry.” It isn’t an explanation, but she accepts it, for now.

\---

Oliver wandered around the Watchtower, taking everything in. He paused now and then to look at a picture or piece of furniture. Chloe knew he’d seen it all before at Isis and her old apartment, but she also knew he was using the personal tour as a distraction.

“Nice place,” he said finally.

It was her cue to say something equally cliché. He was silently begging her to keep the conversation light and friendly. She didn’t know him as well as she knew Clark, but she’d seen that look in his eyes before. _Play along_ , it begged.

“Where were you?” she asked instead, deciding she was beyond interpreting his silent pleas.

“Away,” he answered.

He left a few moments later, with a tight smile planted on his face, and Chloe didn’t let herself regret her question.

 

::

_Clark had told her to move on. That living in the loft was like living with a ghost. He didn’t understand that she needed the space to maintain some sort of hold on the past and everything she’d held dear._

_The first night she spent in the loft, though, was almost her last. All her stuff from the Talon surrounded her, making the place look like home, but she couldn’t help feeling it was wrong. Something was off._

_It wasn’t until the morning, and she woke up alone with no one to rely on, that she realized what was wrong—and no amount of furniture or posters could fix it._

_The loft was empty._

 

 

**03.**

The boys and Dinah show up the next day, and she lets them in without explanation. They are still a small team, but they take up more room than she has been able to, and she welcomes the crowding.

She’s still not sure if she’s a real member of their team of heroes, but she’s grateful for their company. The loft is full, and she lets herself relax a little more.

\---

“You only have one guest room,” Bart commented as he zipped back onto the main floor.

“I haven’t had any guests,” Chloe said, catching Oliver’s gaze over her cup of coffee. A moment of silence passed over the group at her accusing words, and she willed it to reveal Oliver’s secrets. She was getting tired of playing guessing games with Oliver or, worse, pretending like nothing was wrong.

She hated pretending.

“You do now,” Dinah said, before the silence could last too long. She stepped closer and rested a comforting hand on Chloe’s shoulder. There was an apology in her eyes, but it was personal. She wasn’t apologizing for Oliver, just for her part in the situation.

“We could fix up that back room,” Victor suggested. “Maybe put in a tank for Fishboy.”

A.C. grunted at the teasing. “And an oil can for Rusty,” he shot back.

Chloe smiled at the teasing. The loft was full again, and, even with the accusations hanging in the air, she felt better.

Next to her, Bart paused in his investigation of the loft. She turned to him and recognized the frame held in his hands. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stood beside him, running a hand over the picture.

“Have you heard anything about her?” Bart asked as Chloe’s fingers trailed over Lois’s face.

“No.”

 

::

_Lois disappeared somewhere between stopping Doomsday and Jimmy’s funeral. It wasn’t until after the funeral that Chloe felt guilty for not noticing her absence. She knew her cousin would forgive her forgetfulness considering what she’d gone through, but she still felt guilty._

_Her cousin had gone missing without a trace, and Chloe hadn’t noticed until days later._

_She had always been good at tracking, but Lois was impossible to find. She could only hope her resourceful cousin would find her own way back home._

 

 

**04.**

It doesn’t take long before they have a new mission. Even during their absence, the team had been working, and days after their reunion, Oliver enters the loft with coordinates and orders.

Chloe takes her place in front of the computer and tries to pretend no time has passed. She’s Watchtower again, stopping the power hungry and saving the helpless. It feels good until—

“Get out!”

“No, we’re almost done,” Green Arrow argues.

“You’ll be almost dead if you guys don’t vacate. Now.” Her words are short, clipped with annoyance. She’s Watchtower again, but she’s going to have to fight for her spot back on the team.

“Leaving,” Victor agrees, and Chloe watches the dots representing the team hurry from the building moments before it goes up in flames.

_The_ team, not _her_ team. It was never _her_ team, and she’s beginning to wonder why they even came back to her.

\---

“I tell you to leave, you leave,” Chloe snapped, jabbing a finger into Oliver’s chest. The rest of the team disappeared as soon as the fight started, knowing better than to get involved.

“It’s my team,” Oliver argued, stepping away from her finger.

“If you’re going to trust me to be the eyes and ears of the missions, you’re going to have to trust my judgment calls.” Chloe wanted to shake him until he listened, but she knew nothing would get through to Oliver Queen if he didn’t want it to. He was as stubborn as they came.

As stubborn as her.

“I could have handled it,” he stated. “I’ve been handling it. Who do you think ran these missions while we were gone?”

“Not you,” Chloe said, just to be contrary. “Because if you had been in charge of the mission tonight, your team would be dead. That building was set to blow. Do you get that?” Her voice reached the level of hysteria and she swallowed, calming herself.

“I—”

“You could have died,” Chloe continued, cutting his argument off. Something snapped with her simple statement, and they both stood in silence, watching each other.

“I’m not letting anyone else die,” she said finally then walked away, leaving Oliver behind.

 

::

_As soon as the loft was furnished, she threw herself back into her work. She had no one left, so she turned to those who were all alone too. Her work at Isis increased as new patients showed up from across the state._

_She hadn’t been able to save her friends and family, but maybe she could save someone else’s friend or family._

 

 

**05.**

He almost catches her crying, once.

She’s hiding in her room, trying to ignore the problems of her past, and he walks in without an invitation. She manages to duck into a closet, before he catches a glimpse of her tear-stained face, insisting she isn’t decent and _why don’t you knock_ , but he doesn’t take the hint. He’s sitting on her bed when she walks out of the closet, her face neutral.

They both pretend he can’t see her red-rimmed eyes.

\---

“We screwed up.”

Chloe faltered, looking across the small table at Oliver. The rest of the team was out, leaving the two of them alone to discuss their next mission. “When?” she asked, looking down at the logistics in front of her. She’d checked them a dozen times. How could she have screwed up?

Oliver’s hand landed on the paper, blocking her view and bringing her attention back to his face. “Before,” he explained, and she knew he wasn’t talking about their latest mission. He wasn’t even talking about the last few weeks of missions. “With Davis.”

Her heart clenched at the mention of _his_ name, and she swallowed her feelings. He was dead. No amount of anger was going to change what he’d done.

“It’s why I left. Why the team left,” Oliver continued.

It was the explanation she’d been waiting to hear since he’d shown up at her door, but it didn’t make her feel any better. “When I agreed to be Watchtower, I assumed that meant I was a full member of your team,” Chloe said.

“You are,” Oliver argued, looking confused.

“Then why did you leave me? You said the _team_ left after Jimmy’s funeral. I was on that team. I should have gone with you.”

Realization shone in his eyes and he paused, sitting back in his seat. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“Why would you think that? You think I preferred being left behind without any explanation?”

“No, I just,” he paused, sighing. “It’s my fault Jimmy’s dead.”

Chloe frowned. “What is it with you heroes? Is there some kind of rule that you have to take the blame for every murder that happens? It _was not_ your fault. Jimmy is dead because of Davis. Not because of Clark, and not because of you. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I’m the one who split Davis from Doomsday. I’m the one who put my faith in the human part of that monster.”

“It’s not your fault,” Oliver insisted.

“And it’s not yours,” she countered.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeated, returning her attention to the paper in front of her. After a beat, she looked up again and saw Oliver watching her.

“I’m sorry I left you behind.”

She smiled gently. “Promise not to do it again and we’ll call it even.”

“Promise.”

 

::

_She’d spent the time after her divorce helping Oliver and the rest of the team. She’d even upped her time as Clark’s sidekick, go-to girl._

_When they’d all abandoned her, though, she’d found herself without a purpose, save for Isis. She was a sidekick without a hero._

_It was then she’d decided she deserved a promotion. If she didn’t have a hero to help, it was time for her to become the hero._

 

 

**06.**

After their talk, things start to fall into place. The loft is no longer empty, and the team is whole—though they’re still looking into new recruits.

He hugs her one day after a successful, but close, mission, and she doesn’t realize it’s weird until it’s over and he’s wandered off to dig through the refrigerator.

And even then, she decides it’s not weird. In fact, that’s maybe the strangest thing about the hug, the fact that it is completely normal.

Things start to fall into place, and then some.

\---

“Watchtower to Impulse. What’s your status?”

“Single,” Bart answered, and Chloe rolled her eyes, imagining the cheeky grin he was wearing.

Behind her, Oliver sighed, leaning over her shoulder so he could check the computer screen. “If he weren’t so fast,” he threatened.

Chloe looked up at him and laughed. “You wanna try talking to him?” she asked, offering her earpiece.

He shook his head. “You’ve got this. I’ll be in the kitchen, safeguarding the food. Bart’s going to insist on eating it all when he gets back.” He wandered off, leaving Chloe alone with the speedster.

“Status?” she repeated into her earpiece.

“Coming home,” Impulse informed.

“See you then.” Chloe signed off and made her way into the kitchen. “He’s on his way back.”

Oliver nodded. “Good.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and tossed it at her. “So, our next mission is across the ocean. It’s going to take a couple of weeks.”

“Pack well,” Chloe responded lightly.

Oliver shook his head and moved closer, smiling down at her. “Come with us.”

She frowned up at him. “If this is your way of getting me to pack for you,” she started.

He shook his head again. “No. It’s not. You’re a part of this team, right?”

“Right.”

“Then, come with us.”

 

::

_Oliver showed up two months after he and the team disappeared off the map. She slammed the door on his face out of anger and betrayal, not willing to accept the fact that someone had come back to her._

_When he came again, she let him in, deciding the risk was worth it if she was ever going to move on with her life._

_The past came up, as it tended to do, and she finally got an explanation. It wasn’t what she’d hoped, but it was enough. And they could finally move on._

 

 

**07.**

She sits, anxious, wishing once again that she could be in the field with her team. It’s the silent moments of the missions that give her too much time to think. Too much time to second-guess her earlier decisions.

“Building is secure,” Green Arrow says, and she smiles. “Set for detonation in five minutes.”

“Good,” Watchtower answers. “Come home.”


End file.
